


Triumph

by Magnanimator



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnanimator/pseuds/Magnanimator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasumi doesn't understand why people have to act like these things are complicated when they aren't.</p><p>Jacob doesn't understand why people have to act like these things aren't complicated when they are.</p><p>Shepard doesn't understand what things are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triumph

Kasumi suspended her stirring-stick in the air and allowed a couple of drops to fall onto her tongue. The flavor seemed acceptable, so she took a sip from her glass and settled in to contemplate it. 

In the meantime, she peered at Shepard. Shepard peered back. 

Most people couldn't maintain eye-contact with Shepard for long. Krogan warlords couldn't. Mercenary generals couldn't. Citadel Councilors couldn't. 

On the other hand, most people didn't encounter Shepard while he was cautiously sniffing at a tiny, thin-stemmed drink made from too much peach soda and too little gin. This tended to change the effect. 

“So, Shep...” Kasumi said. 

Shepard's peering was unchanged. 

...about that Jacob...” she continued. 

Shepard took a sip from his little glass, face remaining inscrutable. “Yes?”

Kasumi held up one finger, pausing the conversation. She'd waited for the drink to do its thing, and now realized that the flavor was off, after all. She reached for the cupboard beneath the bar and rummaged through the jars and bottles. Maybe more lavender would help. 

“He seems pretty intense,” she went on. 

“Jacob is a...driven individual, it's true,” 

“Also, hot,” 

“Mmm,” 

Shepard twirled his glass diffidently between the tips of his long fingers. Kasumi persevered with her rummaging. Maybe more whiskey would help? More whiskey usually helped, with most things. 

“You think he likes japanese girls with a penchant for kleptomania?”

The commander was silent for a moment, pensive. 

“I think he likes girls,” he said, finally. 

Kasumi straightened back up, holding a nearly-empty bottle of Grant's. “You're not very helpful, you know?” 

She unsealed the bottle and began leavening out her drink as Shepard took another sip from his. 

“You're a girl,” Shepard said, shrugging. “You're cute. Maybe there's something there,” 

“You may have to forgive me for not being too impressed by that insight, Shepard,” 

Shepard set his glass down on the table and raised an eyebrow. “Well. Why would you ask me about it, anyway?” 

Kasumi raised her glass. “Because you're the best matchmaker I know,” 

“Untrue,” 

“No, you are and you know it,” 

“Hmpf,”

“Look, Tali and Kal? You called that,” 

“That was incredibly obvious,” 

“Liara and Feron. You called that, too,” 

“Even more incredibly obvious,” 

More whiskey definitely helped. Kasumi licked the rim of her glass appreciatively. 

“Ken and Gabby,” she continued. 

This prompted Shepard to pick his drink back up.

“Garrus and that cute dancer on the Citadel,” 

Shepard only sipped. 

“James and...” 

“None of those predictions required any particular insight on my part,” Shepard interrupted, brow furrowed. 

“You have a gift, Shep,”

“I...”

“Why, you even predicted that Yi and Okung would get together, on Real Marine Stories,” 

Kasumi thought she detected a hint of blushing, and she could tell that Shepard was working much harder to keep his face so still. She should know. She was an expert, after all. Smirking, she pressed the advantage. 

“Just answer my question, and I'll leave you alone,” 

“What question would that be?”

Kasumi polished off the rest of her drink so that she could peer more seriously at the Commander. “Do you think I'd have a shot with Jacob, or not?” 

The thief began fixing herself another drink while Shepard deliberated. He didn't deliberate for too long, by any stretch of the imagination. 

“No,” he said. Kasumi nearly fell out of her chair. 

“Why not?” 

“You two wouldn't make a very good match,” 

“That's no kind of answer!”

Shepard still nursed his own drink. “To be fair, much might depend on what exactly it is that you want. Are you looking for a quick fling? A bunk-buddy? Something serious?” 

“...Yes,” Kasumi replied. 

“Well. None of those would work between you and Jacob,” 

“Oh,” 

“You have nothing in common and no real basis for compatibility,” Shepard continued. He didn't quite begin counting his rationales off on his fingers, but Kasumi could see the fingers twitching, as if that's what they wanted him to do. “Jacob deeply values everyone's privacy, including his own, whereas you have little regard for anyone's privacy except your own. You are a career criminal whose life is a shifting web of lies, deception, chaos and adventure. Jacob values stability, honesty and loyalty. He hasn't gotten over Miranda yet and won't do so for some time. You swear by Flaubert, while Jacob scrupulously avoids reading any author older than Kahen. You're languidly adventurous in bed, while Jacob prefers straightforwardness and immense vigor,” 

Shepard paused to make sure Kasumi was following him. She'd gotten her next cocktail ready and was trying to work out whether to start drinking it. 

“That's why I say – and I say this as your friend, you know...” 

Kasumi rolled her eyes at this. 

“...that it just doesn't work at any level. Not a good idea,” 

The thief rolled her glass around on the counter-top and contemplated the wet rings it left on the hardened plastic. 

“How did you know that last thing, anyway?” she asked. 

“Miranda is a worse gossip than you when she's pumped full of painkillers in the field. But yes, you and Jacob...I don't see that working,”

“Hff. Well. Who asked you, anyway?”  
“You did,” 

“Can't imagine what came over me, then,” 

“I thought you said I had a gift,”

“Maybe I lied,” she pointed out. “I usually do,” 

Shepard finished off his drink. Kasumi pushed her own drink across the table toward him and stood up, easing around the counter and heading for the door. Shepard was paralyzed with indecision. Everyone knew the Commander couldn't handle scotch. Kasumi knew that the Commander didn't want people to know that. 

Shepard had made a rookie mistake, telling Kasumi that there was something she couldn't do. Would she show him the error of his ways? Maybe. But she'd have more fun showing herself the error of his ways.


End file.
